


Winter Wonderland

by Marvel_ousimagines



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvel_ousimagines/pseuds/Marvel_ousimagines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter is coming and tower repairs have cause the heating system to malfunction, plunging the tower into freezing temperatures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winter Wonderland (Pt. 1)

**Author's Note:**

> You can find this and my other Marvel fanfictions on my [tumblr](http://marvel-ousimagines.tumblr.com/)

“I am literally going to die,” you whined, searching desperately for warmth between the several layers of woolly sheets you had wrapped snugly around your body. You had burrowed in so many blankets that you could probably pass for a hulk-sized snowball.  Like the ninth layer of hell from Dante’s  _Inferno_ , the tower had become a frozen wasteland and your own personal circle of hell.  _’Damn Tony and his stupid tower, and stupid face, and stupid repairs that ruin the stupid heaters.’_

“Please, Natasha, get the comforter from my bed.  I feel the icy hands of death reaching for me from the dark abyss.” A hand slithered out from the blanket-snowball and poised melodramatically on your forehead.

“No, drama queen,” she said as she casually flipped through television channels while you sat there, appendages succumbing to frost bite.  She did not seem to understand the severity of the situation. You  _hated_  the cold.

“I’ll freeze to death!” You wailed.  Your fingers searched frantically for the pockets of your sweatpants, eager for the little snippets of warmth they promised.  Your legs had gone numb. This was most likely because the blankets had cut off your circulation, but you liked to think that it was the result of the moderately-uncomfortable change in temperature. “Or lose my fingers and toes and legs, never to walk or fight again!” Your pleas for compassion had no effect on her icy heart.

A wave of cold wind wafted out of the vents that were designed with the singular purpose of giving you and the tower sweet, comforting warmth.  _‘Betrayal!_ ’ you thought. “Damn!” You burrowed even further in your blanket nest.

“Language!” Steve joked, holding out the swear jar you had made for him. It was an artistic marvel of design you had lovingly and painstakingly crafted.  Well, actually, it was just a mason jar with a piece of lined paper taped to it with the words “I want YOU to watch your language” written on it in crayon alongside a crude drawing of Uncle Sam, but, hey, at least you tried. Two quarters for every impure word was the required toll and the money would secretly go towards funding an OkCupid account for the Captain.

“Oh hush, grandpop-sicle.  You’ll have my money when I die from hypothermia, I’ll write it in my will.  On my tombstone I’ll have them write, ‘Here lies the world’s favorite Avenger, who died from the horrible negligence of her friends and allies, but especially Tony because he broke the damn heater’.”

“That’s too long, maybe we’ll just write “Here lies (Y/N), who will occasionally be missed’,”  Natasha teased.

“But only on days that she had clean up duty,” Tony quickly quipped. Everyone laughed at your expense and you honestly felt so attacked.

“You guys can laugh now, but you’ll all feel guilty when I finally freeze over.  I’ll just go get the blankets myself, since no one seems to care if I catch a cold or die.” You rolled your eyes and slid off the couch, clutching the tarp of blankets tightly to your body and thanking god for your fluffy socks because ‘ _Jesus, this floor is cold!’._  You saw Natasha smile and heard her joke,

“You do that, snowball.” You could see that this was the dawn of a horrible new nickname.

You shuffled awkwardly into the hallway and took up at least half of the small space provided with your blanket cape.  You were so busy fidgeting for warmth and tightening your sheets that you did not realize how quickly you had approached the tower dormitories, crashing in to a particular Sokovian ball of speed and abdominal muscles as he tried to enter his apartment.  Although you were normally painfully socially awkward and dreaded any sort of contact with someone as perfect and Pietro, all you could notice in your cold, dazed state was how amazingly  _hot_  he was.  Not sexy hot, although he definitely was, but  _temperature_  hot.

“This is perfect, come with me,” you whispered, bundling him into your sheet tornado.  No other explanation was offered and the shock was apparent on his face, but he did not fight back so you assumed he had nothing better planned.  

“I do not understand, what are you doing?  Is this some sort of American game?” He asked, his accent seemed to make the room, or at least  _you_ , a bit warmer.  You shook your head and said,

  
“Nope.”  You steered the blanketed mass of superhero in to the living room and resumed your place on the couch.  The sheet monster was not exactly stealthy and you drew the gaze of everyone in the room.  Natasha’s brows knitted together in confusion and she laughed.

“(Y/N), what in the world are you doing?” She asked.

“You don’t understand, his body is like a… a furnace! I’m actually sweating, see?”  You were so happy to be warm that social conventions seemed to not matter as you pulled your arm out of the bundle, displaying the effect his heat had on your skin. This was obviously not the proper response, seeing as everyone sat with their mouths agape and brows furrowed together. It’s not as creepy as everyone seemed to think it was, really. “Oh, was that the wrong thing to say?”

Pietro seemed more amused than horrified though, which you guessed was a good thing. Until he opened his mouth.

“Ah, I see.  You only like me because I am hot?” He joked. You could swear that that was the exact moment that your face decided to turn several hundred shades of red and pink.

“Well, yeah, but not in a-”, you were interrupted quickly.  You guessed that he just did everything fast.  

“You know, I can think of many more fun ways to keep you warm than this,” he flirted and your eyes shot open. A chorus of ‘Ooooohs’ erupted around you. It’s pretty well known that at this moment you looked like a deer caught in the headlights.   _‘Oh no, nonononononono,’_  you thought  _‘I need to get out of here’._   Every little bit of bravery and social courage you had gained from the cold slowly drained out into the air around you.  You quickly tried to untangle the blankets, much to the amusement to everyone else. ' _Nononononono_ ’.  

Now standing up, you looked around at the faces turned towards you and picked your brain for an excuse to leave.

“I, uh, I need to go…” You stammered and tried to figure out some reasonable explanation for your departure, “…uh, do my taxes?” You inched slowly  out of the circle and fled into the hallway. You abandoned your blankets because you swore that for the first time that day, the room felt hotter than ever. 


	2. Winter Wonderland (Pt. 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smut!

Why did his stupid face have to be so goddamn perfect, and why did the simple action of his vocal cords producing sound in that stupidly perfect accent get you so damn  _flustered_?  Who the hell did he sacrifice to the Gods of beauty and grace to get such an unfathomably well-sculpted body, more specifically such an unfathomably well-sculpted ass? Moreover, which God thought it was fair to humanity to put someone so insanely and alluringly divine on the planet, a true Adonis among men? You mentally noted to ask Thor each of these questions in impeccable detail when you regained your capability to think and speak clearly.

The feeling of those small, chaste touches the two of you had shared beneath your blanket fortress should not have been so problematic for your mental clarity, and the color of his eyes should not be the only one you could picture now. The white on your walls turned ice blue, like his irises, and the red of your bedspread was sea green, like the little flecks in those aforementioned crystal eyes. If simply existing in his presence could make your knees weak, your heart melt, and your mouth babble like an idiot, imagine what his quick kisses could do.

Actually, imagining his soft lips being anywhere near your body did not help clear your currently fogged mind or dissipate the pooling heat gathering below your stomach in any way, shape, or form. What you were preparing to do seemed wrong and vile in every aspect of the word, he was your  _friend_  and he  _trusted_  you: this would extend the lines of any acceptable boundaries that your friendship had constructed. That  _any_  friendship could construct. However, the fact that it seemed so  _wrong_  made it feel so incredibly and so fantastically  _satisfying_.

Starting the hot tap in the glass-paned shower, you tested the cool waters raining down with an unsteady hand before carefully undressing, taking as much time as you needed to cope with the reality of what you were doing, of what you needed to do. ‘ _He won’t ever know, he won’t be able to judge me_ ’.

Inhaling deeply to attempt to steady your racing mind, you stepped fully into the heat and sighed as the drops rolled down your body and caressed each supple curve gently, such a routine feeling had now turned painfully seductive to your wanton thoughts. You could practically feel his deft and experienced fingers toying with your exposed skin, pressing here and tugging there, or his mouth trailing down and nipping you in places your own fingers couldn’t even find.

Using the normal need to bathe as an excuse to run your fingers against your breasts and thighs, you lathered your rose-scented bodywash in slow circles across your abdomen and legs, rolling your head back against the tiled wall when you imagined your hands as his and your little grunts as a result of his touch. Tentatively, you dipped the tip of your index finger into the divot of your sex, moaning at the realization that you were dripping not because of the water, but because  _Pietro Maximoff had touched and spoken to and teased you._  And that had driven you irrevocably mad with lust.

You leaned against the wall for support, not trusting your tingling legs to hold you in place, and felt electrified as the cold tiles bared against your skin and sent shivers down your spine. Quickly pressing more circles into your most sensitive spot with an unmatched fervor, you forgot to stifle your mewls and moans, gasping out “ _Pietro_ ” from your agape mouth when you pictured what his lightning-fast fingers could do in place of your humanly slow ones.

If the wall had not been there to support your startled jolt, you would have split your skull open against the shower floor when the door slid open suddenly. Cold air prickled against your skin, causing your flesh to goose over. “What the fuck?” You shouted, scrambling to cover yourself and failing miserably.   

Standing there, almost heroically, was your personalized Adonis, otherwise known as the man whose name you had been moaning haphazardly and, unbeknownst to you, rather loudly just seconds prior. “You are not quiet, you know.” It seemed like an odd way to start this conversation. “I could hear you from the hallway.”  The horrified expression plastered on your face and the creeping blush traversing your completely exposed skin prompted him to continue. “It’s okay princeza, don’t worry. I’m not mad.”

Surprisingly, he maintained eye contact as he spoke in an attempt to make you more comfortable. “Tell me to leave and I will. I won’t mention this and I won’t ask any questions.”

Unsure of how your subconscious managed to muster the brazen confidence to blurt it out, you whispered “Don’t.”  and stepped over to make more room in the tight space. On cue, he slid his shirt over his abdomen teasingly slow before dropping it to the now water-misted ground, not caring where it landed. Seeing as his shoes were already off, he stepped closer to where you stood in the shower, not minding as the water soaked his jeans, and coaxed you out of the corner. He slid his nimble fingers down your wet arm and guided your hand to the belt loops of his pants, pulling you close enough to place a kiss on your lips.

Understanding the gesture as a sign that he wanted you to finish what he had started, you fumbled at the clasp of his jeans, surprising yourself as a giggle escaped your lips and reverberated off the tile walls when you couldn’t undo the little button. It was impossible to picture how awkward you had felt around him only hours prior as he was making you feel so comfortable and in control now. Smiling down at you and reciprocating the laugh as a gesture of goodwill, he claimed your fingers lightly in his and helped you unfasten him. Pulling soaked jeans and boxers off with one fatal swoop, he stood before in all of his natural glory.

To say that you had underestimated exactly how muscular and toned he was would be an underestimation in and of itself. To believe that anyone could be as perfectly cut as him was difficult in its own respect; furthermore, there was nothing to complain about in the size department, either. Before you could comment or express your appreciation of his divine form, you felt his hand tip your chin upwards. “Are you sure?” He asked softly, you nodded against his touch and stroked your free fingers across his abdomen and pectorals in response, savoring each dimple and dip in his hard flesh.

Tilting his head down, water trailed lazily off the slope of his nose and slipped down the curve of your breasts before dripping down your legs and pooling on floor. Lovingly, he parted your bottom lip from the top by pulling slightly on your chin and nuzzled his nose and forehead against yours before completing the kiss. While it was not fierce or crazed like the movies usually depicted, it was passionate and impossibly sweet, both descriptions you would never have thought to attribute to him. The way his deft tongue gently caressed your own made every inch of your body feel aflame. There was no stereotypical battle for dominance, only mutual discovery and heavenly attention as they darted and tangled together.

Slowly, he trailed nimble fingers down away from your chin and on to the top of your right breast, letting his thumb trace against your neck before resting softly against the peak of your nipple. There, he rubbed sweet circles and rotations in to the budding flesh before slipping his other hand down the line of your left shoulder and the shape of your hips. After slipping his hands down the bend of your ass and resting it at the bottom where buttocks met thigh, he brought his fingers towards your front and gently caressed your velvety opening.

Your breathing hitched ever so slightly against the curl of his lips as he brushed over you teasingly, he took the momentary lapse in contact to place his head in the crook of your neck and plant a series of wet, savory kisses against the skin of your shoulder before proceeding to your breasts.  Nipping and sucking just how you imagined, he swirled his tongue around your nipple and continued massaging both your breast and lower lips with calloused fingers.

Leaning against the wall in desperate search for support, you mewled as he unexpectedly kneeled, placing his mouth millimeters away from your most sensitive areas and breathing lightly against the skin of your inner thigh.  Looking up with a smile, he whispered “You smell like roses, princeza” before eagerly placing his moist lips against your slick clit and sucking softly. Fingers snaked in to his wet hair, you murmured small words of encouragement as he dipped his tongue in slithered it across your soaking opening and lips, hips accidently thrusting against his stubbled jaw as he devoured your sex.

Pausing momentarily, he mimicked your lighthearted laughter at these sporadic movements, smiling against you. As his tongue resumed its vibrations, he removed his fingers from your breasts, dragging them down your torso, and used them to spread you open, one digit after the other. Shuddering at the new sensation, you moaned “Oh fuck” into the crook of your arm, attempting to stifle your cries.

At this, he removed all traces of himself from your body and stood up. Noting your confused expression, he pulled you back into your previous embrace, his newly-gained hardness pressing against your stomach as his lips brushed kisses on your neck and jaw, “Are you ready?” You moaned into his touches and reached down between your bodies to stroke him, nodding and silently saying a prayer to thank whatever Gods there were that you had remembered to take your birth control pill that day.

You felt him shudder as your fingers stroked him up and down, gently tugging and bringing a wet thumb across his slit in encouragement. Before you could register what happened, he repositioned you with your back against the wall, one leg wrapped around his waist, ensuring you were comfortable before teasing your entrance by quickly dipping into you. “You feel so fucking  _good_ , princeza.”

Unlike his kisses and caresses, his fucking was franticly paced.  Fast, rhythmic thrusts repeatedly drove you further against the wall as you felt the rotations and contortions of his ass and hips with your leg and hand, moving in towards his movements desperately. Your other hand raked dull nails across the skin of his back in attempt to pull him closer to you, letting out a string of light expletives as he buried his head into your neck and his cock further into your body. “Fuck, Pie…Pietro!”

Pressing his lips tight against your shoulders, you felt him murmur words likely from his native tongue as you tangled a hand in his hair and pulled lightly. You grunted as he nipped your skin in response, increasing the speed and depth of his thrusts whenever you cried out until he felt you begin to tighten against him with incredible pleasure as you reached your peak. Riding you out, he slowed considerably and removed himself before spilling out at his climax. The water had gotten cold at some point, but neither of you had particularly noticed.

Turning off the water, he helped you out of the shower, being gentle with your sore body and aching hips. He dried you off carefully, rubbing the towel in soft circles to soak up any moisture without causing discomfort before he carried you to your bed.

He lay next to you, your head resting lightly on his chest as he breathed slowly, calming down from his high. “That was…”

“Yeah…” You interrupted, meeting his flickering gaze with a smile.

“So, do you want to catch a movie some time, maybe dinner?” He jokingly asked, playing loosely with strands of your hair as you cuddled.

“How romantic.” Rolling your eyes, you moved closer to him underneath the comforter, snaking an arm across his midsection.

“Ah, I try. But seriously Snowball, I’m taking you out.” 


End file.
